


The Man in the corner of the room...

by Michael1214



Category: James "Bucky" Barnes - Fandom, MCU, Steve Rogers pre-serum
Genre: Gen, Out of Body Experiences, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 17:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1949319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michael1214/pseuds/Michael1214
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the corner of the room, there's a man standing, staring at him with large eyes.  It's too dark to make out anything more than his too big clothes and his concerned expression.  He's always been there, he's always close, standing there, staring at him.  He used to talk.  He used to speak words, cry and scream, beg for him to fight whatever it was they were doing to him, but he can't even remember his name now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Falling. Always falling. Why is he always falling?_

He'd never thought he'd survive something like that. And if he never thought so, then why would Steve or Jim or any of the other Commandos think so too? But as he sits up, he can't feel the pain that had paralyzed him before. He can't feel the snow around him, or the hard crunch of ice under his feet as he stands. _He can't feel...anything._

Until he turns around...

There's a body, lying broken and mangled. But...but he feels fine, doesn't he? Except...he can't feel anything. And...

_Oh god why does that body have my face?_

Panic rises inside of him and he can't feel his heart beat. Can't feel his head rush with this new knowledge. _That's my body...that's my body and I'm just a ghost now..._

It's a startling and harsh realization to come to. The blood is everywhere, and all he can do is stare at his poor meatsack of a body. He slumps down in the snow, lips set into a deep frown, panic gone. At least it's him and not Steve...

_Steve..._

And then he realizes that he's still here. _Why? Why am I still here? I'm dead. My body is mutilated beyond repair...Why hasn't the devil come to drag me to Hell?_

But that's the last he remembers of that.

 

 

 

Hell, as it turns out isn't all that hot. He'd thought it would be hot, with flames and screaming. At least he got the screaming part right. Except it's not other peoples screaming...it's his.

But it's so cold. So cold that his skin goes numb and before very long, he can't feel anything at all. Hell isn't supposed to be this cold. Or maybe this was a personal Hell...

He'd always hated the cold...

The cold made Steve cough. The cold made him shiver because there simply wasn't enough fat on his frame to keep him warm...

Steve...

 

 

_James Buchanan Barnes...Sargent Barnes...Sargent...Sargent...Bar...nes..._

After awhile, he stops talking. Stops screaming because they aren't listening to him. And he's so tired. It's all he can do to be upright, it's taking all his strength to even stay alive, with a tube down his throat and an I.V. in his arm. But he doesn't gag, because that will make them angry. That will bring the hose out again and they'll turn that ice cold water on and he won't be numb anymore.

Thank God he's numb right now.

They're looking at him now, watching him carefully, shining a small light in his face, but he's not listening. He is acutely aware of where they are though, how close they are, how fast they can move, but he's not looking at them.

In the corner of the room, there's a man standing, staring at him with large eyes. It's too dark to make out anything more than his too big clothes and his concerned expression. He's always been there, he's always close, standing there, staring at him. He used to talk. He used to speak words, cry and scream, beg for him to fight whatever it was they were doing to him, but he can't even remember his name now.

_**Speak Soldier.** _

They're talking to him now. And he pulls his eyes away from the man in the corner, his head lolling as makes to fix a slightly unfocused gaze up at them. "Orders?" he heard himself say, though his voice is raw and scratchy. When did they take the tube out? He couldn't remember them doing that.

**_Status report._ **

And that doesn't make sense to him, but his mouth opens and he answers anyway, because he's being ask a question. Because he always answers those who handle him. Because if he doesn't then he'll get the hose of cold water...

"Uninjured. Target eliminated."

They nod and start speaking again, but it isn't to him, and so he goes back to staring at the man in the corner of the room...


	2. Steven G. Rogers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just like the first chapter, except from Steve's point of view.
> 
> The water is cold. So cold that he can't even begin to process what's happening. His lungs burn for air, but he knows to keep his mouth shut, to force himself to not inhale. And then all too soon, the cold becomes too much. And before he loses consciousness...before he lets death take over, he lets himself feel one single moment of happiness for the first time in three days. At least now he can see Bucky.

"BUCKY!"

The world has stopped spinning. He's hanging on the side of a train with a H.Y.D.R.A. drone with guns staring at him, and it's all he can do to draw his eyes away from the cliff. From...from Bucky. He doesn't breathe. He doesn't think. He just stares, tears blurring his vision as he watches him fall. And there isn't a single thing he can do, because he's too late. Too...late...

But he has to make a conscious decision, and he's got a couple of options. But there's only one that he'll take, because he has to do the right thing. Even though it's going to hurt more than he could ever imagine. 

He could jump off this train after him. There's no chance that Bucky could survive that fall, and honestly...Steve's pretty sure that even with the serum, he won't be able to survive either.

Or...

He could get back on this train and snap this H.Y.D.R.A.'s goons neck and keep them from killing any of his other men, and take H.Y.D.R.A. down altogether. 

His eyebrows knitted together and he held back the sob that threatened to rock his entire body, the one that he would save for later, when he was alone, when tears could stream down his face without him having to worry about someone wondering just why he was crying.

Bucky...

 

 

"There's time...we've got time, Steve."

"No Peggy...this is my choice."

And just like that, the conversation is truly over. Because she knows. Because she knows that he can't stand to live in this world without him. What man can handle watching his best friend die and know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it's his fault? Because he was too late.

The water is cold. So cold that he can't even begin to process what's happening. His lungs burn for air, but he knows to keep his mouth shut, to force himself to not inhale. And then all too soon, the cold becomes too much. And before he loses consciousness...before he lets death take over, he lets himself feel one single moment of happiness for the first time in three days. At least now he can see Bucky.

And even if they both end up in Hell, it'll all be alright.   
Because he'll be with Bucky...

 

Things have changed. Things have changed a lot. It seemed like it was no time at all that he'd been in the ice, and suddenly, he wakes up. He wasn't supposed to wake up! 

The pain is overwhelming. 

"Captain, your thoughts?" someone ask, and he has to force himself to focus because he hadn't been listening to a single thing anyone had said. 

"I'm sorry, all of this must seem like...too much." Phil Coulson is a very kind man with sympathetic eyes and a radiant smile. Bucky wouldn't have liked him though, if for no other reason than the way he seems to fawn over Steve. With a slow nod, his eyes close and he slumps back in his chair. 

"Don't worry. We can take a break, I'll go get you some lunch. Just relax." Phil tells him, and he doesn't even hear him anymore. Burned into the back of his mind, still just as fresh as before the ice, he can see Bucky, falling from that train. His chest is hollow and guilt washes over him in waves, until he feels the prick of tears behind his closed eyes. 

And just when he can't take it anymore, he forces them open, to the corner of the room.

Where Bucky is standing. Except...it isn't Bucky. Because Bucky is dead. But he's standing there, looking just like he did in 1945. 

"I'm so sorry, Buck. I'm so sorry." 

But he doesn't respond, he doesn't do anything except stare at him. 

Bucky will always be the man in the corner of the room...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Steve's perspective. I hope you guys like it!

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first stab at fan-fiction! 
> 
> I wanted to sort of post this and get a few notes on what everyone thinks, and how it's recieved, and then if I get good reviews or feel like it should go further I'll be posting more. 
> 
> I take requests, but I prefer to stay in the Marvel world because it's what I know. Well, it's what I think I know. 
> 
> Constructive criticism is much appreciated, and...yeah. I hope you guys like it.


End file.
